


count your blessings (not your flaws)

by Akiros



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Road Trips, Sort Of, retold myths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiros/pseuds/Akiros
Summary: The god stares at them for a long moment, considering his truthfulness. “Very well. You have been blessed by Jupiter. What else do you wish for?”I would like to have my home back, he thinks but does not say.I would like to return to the simplicity that I had before, he muses but does not say.I would like to live and die with my wife, he considers but does not say. He and his wife were raised on the tales of the gods, know that they are as unforgiving as they are kind, and so he says, “No, oh powerful god. You have given us more than enough.” He catches the eye of Baucis and for an instant, he knows that she agrees with him.





	count your blessings (not your flaws)

**Author's Note:**

> This one really got away from me. :P 
> 
> If you're not familiar with the myth of Baucis and Philemon, it's one of the stories from the Metamorphoses, as written by Ovid. Basically, they were the only ones to open their doors to Jupiter and Mercury (disguised as human travelers) and welcome them inside (as any good Roman should) even though they were really poor and couldn't properly receive them. Because no one else satisfied them, Jupiter and Mercury ask Baucis and Philemon to climb a mountain while they flooded the rest of the people that didn't do the proper Roman thing. Jupiter then transforms their home into a temple and when told that they didn't want to live or die without the other, turns them into trees. I thought this was really stupid (and inconsiderate?) and thus this fic was born. It’s really rather self-indulgent, but I thought I’d share anyway.
> 
> Title is from King by Lauren Aquilina (Aquilena? Idk).

When they gaze upon the destruction of the town that they have lived in for their entire lives, that they each grew up in, that they fell in love in, Baucis and Philemon are torn between profound relief in their continued existence and a deep sorrow, the kind that takes root and never leaves. They have both grown up on tales of the gods, and they know of the terror they can wreak.

At the direction of Jupiter and Mercury, they make their way back down the mountain, canes sinking into soft earth and bones creaking with age. By the time they return to their lonely house in their desecrated village, they are both wheezing and in pain, unheeded by the gods that accompany them.

Looking upon the water-soaked roofs of their neighbors, Baucis and Philemon have scant time to mourn before a rumbling arises from beneath their feet. Before their very eyes, their home, the one that they built and maintained together, tears itself apart to reveal shining columns and bright marble.

“Your hospitality has pleased us,” Jupiter booms. “In return, we have made your home a temple. Many will visit from far and wide. Your names will be known by their sons, and by their son’s sons. Are you not thankful?”

“Of course we are, oh Jupiter,” Baucis hurries to say.

Philemon can see the moue of distaste that touches Jupiter’s mouth at being addressed by a woman, knows of the dangers of that expression. “We are very thankful for your gift, Jupiter,” he repeats, drawing the god’s attention away from his wife.

“You do not seem thankful,” the god of the heavens thunders.

Philemon wants to cower away from the god’s overpowering aura, but thankfully, the king of gods does not seem irate. “We are merely overwhelmed at the moment,” he tentatively explains. “I assure you that we appreciate your gift.”

The god stares at them for a long moment, considering his truthfulness. “Very well. You have been blessed by Jupiter. What else do you wish for?”

 _I would like to have my home back_ , he thinks but does not say. _I would like to return to the simplicity that I had before_ , he muses but does not say. _I would like to live and die with my wife_ , he considers but does not say. He and his wife were raised on the tales of the gods, know that they are as unforgiving as they are kind, and so he says, “No, oh powerful god. You have given us more than enough.” He catches the eye of Baucis and for an instant, he knows that she agrees with him.

Jupiter seems to doubt this, as who would deny the favor of the king of the gods? But he accepts this and departs with nary a farewell.

Mercury lingers, eyeing them. But whatever advice he may have thought to give he says not. He, too, disappears.

* * *

  
Baucis and Philemon trudge slowly back into the structure that was once their home, sparing scarcely a moment to admire the god-built architecture of the temple. “What are we to do, dear wife?”

Philemon despairs. “I do not wish to live in this cold hall, but we have barely a penny to our name and we are no longer as able as we once were.”

“Stay calm, husband,” Baucis entreats. “Money we have not, but we are not without hope. Vesta is the goddess of home and hearth. I have prayed to her, as I should, every day since we have built our home. Though she may not help us, she should hear our plea.”

Philemon stares at her disbelievingly. “Did you not see what our encounter with a god has done to our lives?” her husband asks forcefully. “Another god will not change anything.”

“Asking her will not do any harm. Vesta is not known to be a vengeful goddess.”

“And how do you propose that we find her?” Philemon retorts. “Begging Vesta is not as simple as throwing offerings to the sea for Neptune.”

At this, Baucis hesitates. Despite being an important deity, Vesta is an oft-overlooked goddess that is difficult to find. “She is of a similar domain to Vulcan. Perhaps we should seek him first,” she offers slowly. “I have heard rumor that he resides in the fiery pits of a mountain."

“We are old and frail,” Philemon interjects. “How are we to complete this journey?”

“Perhaps we will not,” Baucis says calmly. “But would you rather remain here? In the empty skeleton of our previous life? Surrounded by the spirits of the people we could not save?”

He remains reluctant, but agrees that this seems to be the best course of action. They gather all that they can take with them on the journey, everything that the gods did not take from them.  
The next day, they set out.

* * *

They walk for over a fortnight, counting the sunrises and sunsets that streak across the sky. Although they are old and weak, they have not lost the skills that they had needed to maintain their house on their own and they are accustomed to living frugally. Baucis calls upon the knowledge that she has accumulated throughout her life, plucking herbs and mushrooms from the ground with a practiced hand. Philemon crouches for hours and brings her game to roast over a weak flame. They do not have much food as they travel, but it is enough.

On the eighteenth day, their aching and trembling feet finally touch upon the volcanic ash that softens the ground and deadens the grass around them. They continue to climb, setting one foot in front of the other, until they have reached the rim of the fiery mountain that Vulcan is said to dwell inside.

Baucis sets down her small pack, opening it and digging out chunks of gold metal that they had scavenged from their home-turned-temple with shaking hands. Though the god of metalworking was not known for his work with gold, Baucis had no doubt that the god would be able to make use of it.

She tosses the gold into the crater, along with a quick but heartfelt prayer. They do not have to wait long before the ground quakes beneath their feet. Baucis and Philemon steady each other, bearing the chaos around them with a terrified yet determined air.

The rumbling continues as a man, the largest they have ever seen, one that takes up nearly the entire rim of the crater, begins to arise from the dust that has shaken free from the walls of the crater. They look long enough to see that the god’s hips are punctuated by metal, not flesh, before they overcome their fearful wonder and remember the stories of this god’s creation.

“Your prayer has been received, mortal. Why have you traveled so far to throw chunks of metal into my home?” Baucis nearly succumbs to the urge to cover her ears, the thunderous baritone of the god’s voice rattling her teeth and her bones.

“We would like to know how to seek Vesta, most powerful Vulcan. Our home was destroyed by Jupiter and we have nowhere else to go,” Philemon replies in a trembling voice. “But we do not know where she resides, and so we have come to you to request aid.”

The god is quiet for a long time, his billowing breaths filling the silence. “I of all gods know how it is to be cast out of your own home.” Philemon feels his heart filled with hope, before it is dashed by despair with Vulcan’s next words. “I do not know where Vesta is. I do not often leave Etna and Vesta is not well known by the other gods.”

Downtrodden, Baucis and Philemon look at each other hopelessly. “Thank you for your time and graciousness,” Baucis says, bowing to the fiery god. Philemon echoes her action. She closes her pack, disheartened, and takes her cane into her hand. “We are ever grateful for your help.”

They turn to trek back down the mountain, but the voice of Vulcan stops them. “My son. Cacus. He has mentioned Vesta before. He might know where she lives in the mortal realm. He typically lives near the Palatine Hill, but you can find him in a cave over there. He says that the grass there is better at this time of the year.” Baucis and Philemon puzzle over the curious ending statement. They turn in time to see the god raise his arm to point westward, in the direction of the sea, the appendage trailing smoke and ash. “Walk until you reach the bay. You will find him there.”

Philemon opens his mouth to thank the god, but by the time the platitudes fall from his lips, the god is already gone, sinking into the molten ash of the mountain. He turns to his wife, grasps her hand in his, and they make their way down from the mountain.

* * *

Thankfully, it only takes a single day and night to reach the cave by the coast. As they had walked, they had worriedly discussed how to draw Cacus out from his home. They had heard stories of Cacus’ brutality, of his power over flames. They had already set out on their journey; it would not do to perish so near to their goal.

Their worries were for naught, however, when they discover an inhumanly large man sleeping in the mouth of a cave a ways from a grazing sheep herd, using a rock as a pillow. “I believe that we have stumbled across Cacus,” Baucis says drily. “How are we to wake him?”

They try various methods over the course of the next hour. They begin by calling to Cacus, but with no response, they move on to timidly pushing on his shoulder, which ends the same way. By the end of the hour, they are preparing to devise a method of transporting the water of the bay to the pasture so that they might shock him into alertness.

As they talk through the plan, however, a sheep bleats softly and begins walking away from the rest of the herd in search of more grass. In a flash, Cacus bolts up and gently herds the lone sheep back to the herd.

As he walks back to his resting place, he spots the two humans standing uncertainly near the rock that he was using as a pillow. “Oh, humans? Why have you come to bother Cacus?”  
“Oh, most powerful god—”

“Save your useless platitudes for actual gods,” Cacus growls. “I am borne from Vulcan, but I am but a giant. Speak your piece and leave.”

Slightly terrified, Philemon speaks in a tremulous voice. “Vulcan informed us that you would know where the goddess Vesta is?” His fear leaves the sentence a question.

“And what do you want with Vesta?” the giant questions, eyeing them with clear suspicion. “If you are seeking to harm her, I will not hesitate to burn you both to a crisp.” To demonstrate his ability in such a task, he lets out a wisp of flame from his maw, scorching the ground in front of them.

Baucis feels faint. “We merely are seeking her to beg her assistance.”

“Why would you need her assistance?”

“After giving him shelter, the god Jupiter transformed our home into a temple as a reward, Lady Venus,” Baucis explains quickly. “We are seeking Vesta to see if she might be gracious enough to provide us a new home.”

To their surprise, the giant laughs. “You seek to undo the gift of the king of gods?” Baucis and Philemon hurry to correct him, but Cacus waves them off. “I am very familiar the machinations of the king of gods, mortal. You do not need to explain yourself to me.” The giant chuckles again, a strange sound that is reminiscent of grinding rocks, before continuing, “Vesta is particularly fond of the bread that the bakers make in the village near here. If she is on the mortal plane, you will likely find her there.”

Baucis hesitantly offers the giant some of the herbs that she has saved in her pack, but the giant refuses. “Your spite of Jupiter is reward enough. Now leave, before you disturb the sheep.”

* * *

Oddly enough, the town is fairly quiet when Baucis and Philemon arrive. It is after noon and the town is large enough and near enough to the bay to be considered a port town, but there is less bustle than one would expect.

They wander around, looking for the bakery that Cacus had spoken of. When they find it and step inside, it’s devoid of people, with the exception of a particularly lazy looking donkey and a young girl tending to the flames of the oven.

Philemon kneels next to the girl, wincing when his joints protest. “Young girl, where might we find the tenant of this bakery?”

The girl turns to him and Philemon startles at the bright intelligence in her eyes. “Why might you be looking for him?”

Philemon hesitates to explain their quest to a child, but Baucis makes the decision for him. “We are told that Vesta often frequents this bakery, and we are seeking her for assistance in godly matters. We were hoping that he might know where we may find her or when she frequents.”

“What godly matters?” the child asks innocently.

He can’t find any harm in telling the girl, but he eyes his wife in case she has any objections. Her calm countenance encourages him, so he continues, “We lost our home to Jupiter, and we were hoping that she might help us.”

“Well, if it is Jupiter, I do not know what I could do,” the girl says with a sad frown on her face. Baucis and Philemon freeze, minds working through the possibilities. “I do apologize for the subterfuge, but not everyone’s intentions are as noble as yours.”

They both immediately go to kneel, but the girl—Vesta—stops them both with a smile and a hand on each of their shoulders. “It is alright. I am not even considered an Olympian any longer,” the goddess says with a sad twist to her expression. “What has my younger brother done now?”

Baucis and Philemon explain quickly and the goddess hums with thoughtful expression. “As I said before, I do not hold as much power as my brother, and even if I did, I could not undo the gift of a god.”

Baucis and Philemon are filled with heart-wrenching despair. Why travel this far and for so long, if it were all for naught? “Thank you for your time,” Baucis murmurs, attempting to contain her tears of anger and exhaustion. “We shall take our leave now.” She and her husband turn to leave, but as they take a step towards the door, Vesta stops them.

“Where will you go now?” the goddess asks, a curious tilt to her head.

They turn back to the goddess, who has stood with a hand on the back of the donkey. Philemon curses himself for not recognizing the well-known symbol of the goddess earlier. “I do not know, Lady Vesta. We do not have anywhere to return to.”

“You traveled from Rome, yes? Come, gather here. You have not rested in a long time and you are still weary from your travels.” Relieved for the small kindness, Baucis and Philemon huddle near the slight warmth of the oven. “I cannot grant your wish for a home, but I will do my best to grant another, for your bravery and tenacity in seeking me.” The goddess peers at them expectantly.

Philemon looks to his wife, who looks back with the quiet devotion that carried them through their years and years of life together, the serene calm that kept their tiny household together, the fierce determination that brought them through this journey and will bring them through the nex, and knows what he wishes to ask of the goddess.

He grasps her hand and turns back to Vesta, who watches them with a knowing look on her youthful face. “My greatest wish was to grow old with my wife, and that has been granted to me. Now, I find myself hoping that I will never have the pain of seeing her buried, but more than that, I wish that she will never know the pain of my passing.”

“And I hope that he will never know the same,” Baucis says firmly, gripping his hand tightly.

The goddess stands, brushing off her simple toga. “I do not have the power or means to offer you immortality; it is astonishingly difficult to take ambrosia from Olympus. But. I could offer you a place in my hearth. You would contribute to the maintenance of countless homes and families. You would be bring warmth to them on the coldest winter day. You would offer comfort when no other could. But you would also be consumed by the flames. You would have no knowledge of the good that you are doing, other than what I am telling you now. You would be with your wife, with your husband, but you would not know it.” The goddess falls silent, and Baucis and Philemon know that they are now being asked to make a choice.

They turn to look at each other. They have both grown up on tales of the gods, and they know of the terror they can wreak. He and his wife were raised on stories of the gods, know that they are as unforgiving as they are kind. Baucis and Philemon know of this, and so they turn to the goddess of hearth and home, who watches them solemnly, and know that the goddess can see the resolution in their hearts.

The goddess smiles, even as she reaches out to them with embers trailing from her small and delicate hands. “Very well.” As the flames lick up their legs, Baucis and Philemon embrace for the last time. Vesta is just close enough to hear the last whispers between the husband and wife.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at https://littlenookofnonsense.tumblr.com.


End file.
